Monday, July 23, 2012
There's a Twit Here Somewhere...
The Scouring Monk wasn't aware that he was an outlaw until he was told. He trusted the source. Now he had determine what he'd done...
The place to start, as it always was, had to be the Owl's Eye, where Monk would find the source himself, who went by the name Waterloo. The Owl's Eye wasn't a casual sort of destination, however, and Monk was fairly deliberate about all his movements. But a problem? Hardly. He had a pair of shoes for that. For women, owning many pairs of shoes was a matter of fashion. For Monk, it was about getting around.
There was only one place to find his Destiny Shoes: in his Foot Locker. It wasn't the source of all Monk's power, but it was handy. The shoes he needed for the Owl's Eye were brown with blue highlighting, and there was only one pair like that. It was that easy...
Putting them on had the effect of instantaneously transporting Monk to the Owl's Eye, where he found Waterloo drunk off his ass.
"Loo, you jerk," he said in greeting, before knocking the old fool off his stool. "What've you been spreading around this time?"
"It wasn't me. But it appears that someone has been spreading the word around that you're El Bandido. Bad luck, friend..."
At that moment, Monk wondered if he still had a twin.
"I was worried for a moment," he said. "I thought someone was being serious."
The Owl's Eye was a new place that had been made to look lived-in, a 21st century false-front; it was hip, and ready for the jaded. You shouldn't let the apparent character of Monk or Waterloo color your opinion of its patrons. They're not really so bad to hang out with. They do, however, think they're birds, but it's weird, because even birds have a good reason when they tweet, whereas these people...don't?
"You misunderstand," El Bandido will say. "I do not mean to disparage. To tweet is surely divine." He smiles just then, looks around.
The owner of the Owl's Eye looks around, too, wondering if Monk and Waterloo will be causing problems. All he sees is a girl with a camera. Monk realized that he wasn't going to have enough time to put up with this nonsense. He pulled Waterloo aside and asked the tough question.
"Are you going to contact K or not?"
"That's tougher said than done and you know it," Waterloo almost didn't say. "K is harder to reach these days than you are."
Monk hadn't seen her for over two years, hadn't heard from her since the spring. Sometimes it seemed like yesterday, sometimes longer...
He could never forget her face, though. Never. He saw her face everywhere, though, almost like he expected to see her just around the corner, and the universe was just getting him ready. But all the same, K was K, and there didn't seem to be much that was going to change that. It was just that, she left a gap.
"She was just here," Waterloo said.
"That's somewhat unlikely, but I'll play along," Monk said. "She's the one who told you?"
"I'm surprised you're so quick to believe me," Waterloo said. "You must really be getting desperate."
"You'll believe just about anything at this point about her. She's a zombie these days, swear to god. Loves the brains."
"She has nothing to do with any of this," Monk realized. "You're just trying to distract me."
"What did I say. You'll believe anything," Waterloo said.
"She was just here, believe me. She has nothing to do with the El Bandido business. But she could probably help."
"The thing is, I don't know if I want her help," Monk said. "I'm trying really hard to get over her. And, well, to hold onto her."
"You're nuts," Waterloo remarked. "Anyway, the best way to get around is to advertize. You should just assume you're El Bandido."
"Let me guess," Monk mused, "That's what she thought."
"Like I've said, everyone thinks so," Waterloo said. "I'd believe it, too, if I didn't know you better. You're more bendy than bandit."
"Your confidence in me is astounding," Monk said. "But I guess I could be in a worse position. Now to figure out what to do with it..."
As you might have guessed, K was not unaware of circumstances. She wasn't even that far away. Not that she wanted Monk to know. She was avoiding him not because of the El Bandido story, but because she had become convinced that he was a pirate. She was wrong of course, not because he wasn't a pirate, but because he never told anyone; there was no reasonable expectation of exposure.
Monk did a search for his name and "El Bandido" and ended up finding out that the terms were synonymous. Maybe he was Bandido after all...
He turned to the only person he truly trusted, the Black Squirrel. But he would have to visit his shoe locker again, to get access.